


A Wicked, Twisted Road

by Tasyfa



Series: Travelling Men [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Gay Character, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Nebulous Well-Adjusted Future, do not copy to other sites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21925813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasyfa/pseuds/Tasyfa
Summary: The alien dust has settled, life is going on, and Michael is going on vacation.* * * * *Canon compliant; set in the Nebulous Well-adjusted Future; mention of other people and past relationships but only Michael and Alex appear in the fic; Michael POV.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Travelling Men [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739602
Comments: 53
Kudos: 157





	A Wicked, Twisted Road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SalazarTipton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalazarTipton/gifts).



> A Roswell Secret Santa gift for @bialiencowboy / SalazarTipton 
> 
> The prompts you provided suggested that Michael-centric malex with a little something-something wouldn't go awry ;D so here it is! I hope you enjoy. <3
> 
> Title is from [the song by Reckless Kelly](https://open.spotify.com/track/0jSsv5sPDBMRrNm06rDKAA?si=zrrvEv4PQIq2scfnvhbsAA), which is a moody country ditty a friend recced to me as a Guerin tune. They weren't wrong.  
> ~ Tas

Michael had never expected to be able to leave. Not after three bodies in the desert and the echoing crunch of fibreglass and metal. Not when that night crystallised the need to stay. To protect. 

But Isobel didn't need his protection anymore. She'd fought so hard to cleanse herself of Noah's taint, and she'd done it, come out the other side stronger than ever. 

He couldn't even object to her knocking boots with Valenti. The doctor had proven himself a true ally in the time they'd all worked to resurrect Max. And, well, it wasn't worth his life to stand between Isobel and something she really wanted. 

Max had his old job and his new live-in girlfriend. Some memory gaps yet. All early days; nothing Michael knew anything about. He hadn't been in Roswell then. Liz and Isobel were best placed to support him with that. Max's twin sister, teamed up with the love of his life. For once, Michael didn't envy his brother. 

Liz's sister was her cousin now, living with the DeLucas when she was in between semesters of art school in Santa Fe. Mimi was improving since she'd finally received a diagnosis, some kind of autoimmune disorder he could never remember the name of. She hadn't gone back to running the bar - it was Maria's, she'd conceded - but she was home and lucid, and clear about who everyone was, himself included. 

His ex-girlfriend (and her mom) had settled into the knowledge of aliens among us easily enough; his non-human status hadn't been a barrier to romance, nor his myriad bad habits. In the end, it had been a long, slow slide into a solid friendship. He cherished Maria, but he didn't love her, not like that. 

Not the way he still loved Alex. 

His feelings didn't matter, though. By the time Michael had found himself single again, Alex hadn't been, shacked up with his punk veterinarian boyfriend and his unimpressed with the world dog. 

Life in Roswell, New Mexico was smooth again, safe as it could be, and Michael felt untethered for the first time ever. Unnecessary. Not in a bad way, just... unfamiliar. 

So unfamiliar that Sanders had all but kicked him out on the spot when he'd requested a couple of weeks of vacation. He'd never taken a block of time like that before and it seemed the old man thought it was overdue. 

Armed thus with the notion of what normal people did on vacation, Michael took photos every time he stopped on the nine hour drive to the Grand Canyon, all the rest stops and quaint city limits signs, and the canyon itself once he arrived. He took more of the stars, sparkling in multitudes overhead as he lay cocooned in blankets in the back of his truck, staring skywards until he fell asleep. 

Morning saw him back on the road, still heading west, cutting across desert and state lines until everything began to glow greener, the plant life changing in response to the increased moisture as he neared the Pacific. 

Traffic became an issue but then, California was known for that. What should have been another nine hour drive took more than twelve, meaning he arrived after the sun had gone down. That was alright; he didn't need much out of his first night there. Something to eat and a secluded parking spot at a beach where he could listen to the waves. 

There were fewer stars here. Too much light pollution, this close to LA. Michael hadn't seen them so obscured before and it pained him, the inappropriately dark expanse of the sky. But in the same spot the following evening, he had to admit that watching the red and purple streaks of sunset disappear into the ocean was also one hell of a view. 

Not long after the sun rose again, the third sunrise since the one he'd driven away from, Michael's phone went off while he was eating his way through a massive breakfast at a Denny's. He assumed it was his sister and answered without looking, "'Lo?"

"Guerin? Hi." 

That was neither the name nor the voice he had expected. "Hey, Alex. What’s up?" Michael didn't let himself ask what was wrong; he couldn't imagine why else Alex would be phoning him instead of texting, especially at this time of day. Granted, it was earlier here, time zones and all.

"I stopped by the junkyard to talk to you and Sanders told me you were on a road trip. Figured I'd call, see how it was going." 

Michael frowned at the too-casual tone but two could play that game. "Good, yeah. Although the rumours about southern California traffic being shit are all true." 

The laugh sounded genuine enough. "So I've heard. Where did you end up? I gotta admit, I can't really see you at Disneyland, so I'm guessing LA?"

"Bit farther south. San Diego." 

"Huh. What’s in San Diego?" 

"The ocean?" Michael sidestepped the question. "Without all the crush of LA. I'm not exactly used to huge cities." 

"True. I think Albuquerque would fit into one LA suburb."

"Yeah, probably." This conversation was getting weirder by the minute. And his food was getting cold. "Listen, Alex ---"

"Want some company?" It came out all in a rush, like Alex had needed to psych himself into speaking. "I could catch a flight, be there early this evening." 

Michael actually pulled the phone away from his ear to stare at it. Yep, the screen said Alex, and the voice was Alex's, but, what the fuck? He had questions, a lot of them. If Alex was serious, though, the questions could wait until they were in the same room. He did venture one, however, "You don't have to work?" 

"I'm a cyber security consultant, Guerin. All I need is my laptop and hotel WiFi of the non landing page variety." 

Hotel. Right. "Um, about that..." 

"You're spending your nights stargazing, I know. Or, well, assumed, I guess," he chuckled. "As awesome as that would have been once upon a time, these days, I need a bed and a decent shower. I'll book a room." The hesitation was so brief, Michael thought he must be imagining it. "You're more than welcome to stay with me. If you text me your licence plate, I can give it to the front desk so you can park at the hotel, and then text you the room details when I get checked in?" 

"Okay," he agreed, because what else was he going to do? He couldn't deny it would be nice to spend time with Alex, especially somewhere that wasn't Roswell. "That sounds good, thanks." 

"Great. I'll see you then." 

"See you," Michael echoed, and the line went dead. 

He texted his licence plate number before he forgot, receiving a smiley emoji in return, and put the phone down, getting back to his breakfast. The affirmative nod to the waitress for a coffee refill was done by rote; inside, his mind was whirling, trying to ascertain Alex's game plan. None of this made sense. 

Eventually, he shrugged it off. They were friends now. Maybe Alex had simply needed someone else's example right in his face to persuade him to take a damn break himself.

Still, the day passed in a bit of a fog. He spent a long while wandering from exhibit to exhibit at Sea World, recording some of the dolphin show on his phone, grateful he'd invested in a waterproof case when he ended up soaked to the skin. 

The boardwalk was next, walking in the warm afternoon sunshine as his clothes dried on his body, ducking into some of the shops to look at trinkets for the girls. He had girls he could give things to now, not just Izzy but three more besides, four if he also got something for Mimi. It was nice to be able to browse, to look at the wares in each shop with a person in mind, not an abstract notion or a time wasting exercise but to really look at the pretty shells and beachy earrings and sarongs fluttering in the ocean breeze, and think about whether they would suit people he cared about. 

It was a new experience, much like what must be hundreds of photos already. Maybe Alex could make him a slideshow or something. 

He didn't end up buying anything, content to leave it to another day. Instead, Michael got ice cream and sat on the beach, boots tilted haphazardly beside him with socks stuffed inside so he could dig his toes into the sand. If he really was going to be here another week or so, he might need to copy the locals and get some sandals. 

When he wandered back towards the boardwalk, boots dangling from one hand, a display of cheap foam and plastic flip-flops caught his eye. Five minutes later, he was wiggling his toes in his new footwear, trying to get used to the post between his toes and the straps. Save for the occasional foray into dress shoes, Michael couldn't remember ever wearing anything other than boots or sneakers. The flip-flops were weird, but definitely better suited for the beach. 

By the time Michael had exchanged the boots for the towel in his truck and gone back to the water, he'd stopped paying attention to his feet. He left his shirt and his new footwear on the towel while he swam, cash and keys in a waterproof pouch tucked into the interior zip pocket on his trunks, phone in the exterior zip pocket. Everything he might need in the immediate future right there on his body. 

It was as stripped down an existence as he'd ever experienced, but in a positive way, the subdued roar of the waves occupying the places that needed to be filled. 

And sunshine doing the rest as he flopped onto the towel, not bothering to try to remove any excess water. Simply stretching out in the gold of late afternoon, letting the ambient heat begin to dry him. 

Michael repeated the cycle a few more times, warming up in the sun and cooling down in the sea. He was fully underwater when his phone vibrated and he broke through the landing wave to stride onto the damp sand, fishing out the device long enough to check the address and send a quick reply of, on my way.

He gave his head a good shake, curls spraying water everywhere, then grabbed his stuff, wet feet sliding easily into the flip-flops, shirt and towel dangling over one arm while he walked to his truck. Discarding the towel in the back, Michael shook sand off the T-shirt and slipped it on before hopping into the driver's seat, careless of his damp shorts. 

It didn't take long to locate the hotel parking lot. Then, duffel bag hoisted onto his shoulder, Michael made his way to the room number he'd been given and knocked firmly upon arrival, not allowing himself to hesitate. This had been Alex's idea; Michael wasn't encroaching or imposing on him. He'd been invited. 

Repeating it to himself helped. 

When the door swung inward, he smiled at the man it revealed, clad in jeans and a soft button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, shoes visible below the denim cuffs. Ready to go out still, Michael guessed. "Hey." 

"You look like a surfer," Alex grinned, gesturing at him, and Michael laughed. 

"No, I don't swim well enough to surf. I'd manage to drown myself on the first attempt, probably. Plain old swimming close to shore."

Alex nodded, then huffed a laugh. "Well, come in. Did you eat dinner yet? I haven't, was considering room service or the restaurant downstairs," he talked as he ushered Michael inside, down the short, oddly wide hallway created by the bathroom and closet, to a nicely appointed room with one king-size bed.

Michael might be sleeping in his truck after all. He cleared his throat, answering the question in favour of ignoring the bed, "I haven't eaten yet. You're probably tired from travelling, yeah? Room service is probably the best option." He glanced down at himself. "I could maybe grab a shower while you order whatever? You know me, I'll eat anything." 

"Yeah, go right ahead. You're sure you don't mind staying in?" 

He shook his head, giving Alex a once-over. The faint lines he could see on Alex's face were the ones he'd learned to associate with pain rather than laughter. It sat differently on his skin. "I really don't mind."

"Okay," Alex smiled, seeming to take him at his word as he reached for the menu. 

Dropping the duffel in the corner, Michael rummaged for clean clothes and the ziplock bag with his travel size toiletries, taking all of it into the bathroom and closing the door. 

Where he halted, surprised to find that it was a shower room. Every surface was tiled, and a ceiling rail ran the length of the room with a curtain to pull across. The wall-mounted showerhead was big, with a separate, smaller handheld nozzle on a hose. There were several grab bars affixed to the walls, both in the shower half of the room and, he noticed now, also around the toilet, and a folded, white plastic stool leaned against one shower side wall. 

It was a fully kitted out disabled shower room and for a moment, Michael closed his eyes against the hot tide of shame that even after all this time, it wouldn't have occurred to him to ask for a room with this kind of accommodation. Hell, he'd had no idea they existed. The one bed made sense now - when you needed the adaptations in the bathroom, you took what you could get for the bedroom. 

Still, by the time he'd gotten himself free of salt and sand, he couldn't help thinking about just how _much_ room there was in the shower, more than enough for two grown men, and he sternly told his brain to fuck off. He had no business thinking about Alex like that anymore. 

When Michael re-entered the room, Alex was in the armchair, shoes off and one pant leg dangling loose, crutches nearby. Good. He put his dirty laundry on his bag and took the desk chair, glancing around the room with a keener eye. 

The corridor between room and door was wider than usual; he hadn't imagined that. The night tables on either side of the bed floated, attached to the oversized headboard. The other furniture had similar cleared space underneath. 

Finally he looked back to Alex, finding one raised eyebrow and a knowing smile. "It's designed for a wheelchair user, right? The accommodations are really good, and that is a nice shower." 

"It is, yeah. I didn't used to know hotel rooms like this existed, either. But most of the major chains have a couple per hotel, and they aren't exactly in high demand by able-bodied people, so it's usually pretty easy to book one." 

"Makes travelling a hell of a lot nicer," Michael opined. 

"It sure does." He shifted in the chair. "I ordered pasta for myself, and steak frites for you, plus a couple of beers." 

"Fancy," Michael teased, grinning when Alex rolled his eyes. "That's great, thank you. I'll settle up with you later." 

"No, Guerin, my treat. Consider it an apology for gatecrashing your holiday," he raised a hand, forestalling the protest. 

"You aren't gatecrashing, Alex. If I'd had a problem with you being here, I would have said so on the phone. But," he sighed, "I'll accept the dinner, if not the unnecessary apology." 

"Fair enough," Alex conceded. "So, did you spend all day at the beach?" 

"Nope. Went to Sea World. Then the beach. I was already wet from the dolphins," he grinned. "That reminds me, I took tonnes of photos. Well, I've been trying to, anyway. Is there a site or a programme that will make a slideshow or something? I figured you would know." 

"Yeah, there's a few options. I can show you some tomorrow; I don't want to even look at the computer tonight," he smiled. 

Michael chuckled, "Of course, yeah." He looked up at the knock. "I'll get it." 

"Thanks," his voice was soft, and Michael knew that letting him get the door was as difficult for Alex, as letting Alex pay for dinner was for him, so it evened out in some bizarre way. 

Dinner was comfortable, both of them talking easily enough when the topics weren't that important. Or less personal, anyway - cleaning up after Project Shepherd and Caulfield had been crucial and they'd managed then. 

Eventually, though, both plates were empty and Michael leaned back in the chair, still sipping at his one beer, grateful for the bottle of water that was his second beverage. He watched Alex, seeing some of the released tension creeping back in, and decided to throw caution out the window. "You gonna tell me why you’re here?" 

The corners of Alex's mouth twitched upwards and he tilted his head. "Yes, but you first." 

Rolling his eyes, Michael laughed. "Fine. I started thinking about it kinda vaguely, you know, in the back of my mind, when Liz and I were spending what felt like 24/7 in the lab. She's chatty when she's tired, and one of the things she talked about was her big road trip after high school." He shrugged. "Made me want to see the ocean." 

"That's cool. She has some amazing photos." 

"Yeah, yeah she showed me later. Mine are going to suck in comparison," he snorted a laugh, "but that's okay. I don't have much photography practice." 

"The advantage of digital, you can just keep snapping and something will turn out." The head tilt was still in place. "I'm guessing California because the Pacific is closer, but why this city?" 

That was a little more complicated and Michael flashed a brief smile before looking away and down, inhaling deeply. "I hooked up with this guy a few years back. Tourist, in town with his sister and her boyfriend for the UFO Convention. Turned out he was Navy. He told me about some of the places he'd been, said San Diego was one of the prettiest ports he'd docked in." He took another deep breath, shrugged again. "Seemed like a good recommendation to me." 

Alex chuckled, "Can't get away from the military guys, huh?" 

That skated closer to home than Michael would have liked but his smile was genuine. "Hey, he was in civvies, wearing a hat, and he was hot. Potential dogtag was not what I was looking at." 

He laughed when Alex did, tightness easing across his middle, grateful beyond measure they could have this kind of conversation nowadays. Everyday chitchat. It was so much better when the words were just words and not weapons. 

"So that's me," Michael concluded quietly. "It was an idea I'd been kicking around for a while and it finally felt like it was okay to go." He shifted his gaze to meet Alex's. "But this is, like, way spontaneous for you." 

Alex did this complicated head and shoulders move that was some combination of a nod and a shrug and several other things besides. "A little. I suppose the best way to put it is, there's stuff I've been kicking around in my head for a while, too, and I made the decision to go talk to you about it this morning. And then you weren't there, and Sanders said you were going to be gone for two weeks, and I," he stopped, swallowed, shrugged normally this time. "The location of the conversation felt less important than the ability to say what I wanted to sooner." 

"You seriously flew out here because you didn't want to wait for me to get home before you talked to me?" he asked, incredulous, expelling breath in a loud gust at the clear nod. He had a moment of déjà vu, _What do you want to say, Alex?_ , but he didn't need to hurl verbal spears anymore. Instead, Michael spoke in a tone far calmer than how he was feeling, "What was so important that you got on a plane?" 

Alex looked around the room, seeming to steel himself, then returned Michael's gaze. "This hotel has three rooms suitable for wheelchair users. All three were available. This is the only room with one bed, and I booked it on purpose." 

The sudden jump in Michael's heart rate couldn't be healthy. "What does that mean, Alex? I need you to spell it out for me." 

"A few weeks ago - months, actually, plural months ago now - Forest and I broke up. He's still Buffy's vet, he's good and she likes him, and it wasn't acrimonious or anything, us splitting up. It just... It was time. And after a little while of licking my admittedly minor wounds, I started thinking about you." A smile ghosted over his lips. "I hadn't been letting myself think about you, not really. It wasn't fair to Forest. And in the past, thinking about you had always led to wanting you, and then to hasty decisions, and then to backing off, and," he sighed, "you know how that goes. It's shit, and I didn't want to do it again." 

"Okay," he filled the small silence, trying to understand precisely what Alex was saying. "I appreciate that, I don't want to do it again, either." 

"Exactly. So I didn't do anything different, except, I stopped blocking the thoughts." Alex shook his head, giving a self-deprecating laugh. "I don't know if it's because he has non-verbal patients, but something I learned with Forest was how to express what I want, and how to figure out what that even is in the first place." 

"Useful skill," Michael offered, as diplomatically as possible. 

"Yeah, very," that hint of laughter still present in his voice. "Especially for me. I spent so long believing it didn't matter, and it's taken some work to chip away at that. I'm not done; I might never be done, and you should know that." 

"Alex," not knowing what else to say, or if he could force other words out at all. At length he said, "Steep learning curves are still learning." 

That earned him a laugh, clean and bright. "Yeah. Well, what I learned when I left the door open was, I'm always thinking about you." He folded his hands in his lap, eyes dropping to watch them. "When I cook, I wonder if you'd like it if it's something I've never seen you eat. When I watch the news, I want to know your opinions on stuff. When I see you across the room," his gaze snapped to Michael's, fiery and strong, "sometimes all I can think about is that you made a new noise every time we tried something new in bed, and I wonder how many different sounds you can make, and if a lifetime would be long enough to be able to hear each one of them." 

"Uh." Not the most intelligent utterance but Michael felt like he couldn't breathe. "Are you asking me out, or...?" he didn't dare specify further, terrified he was reading this wrong. "I mean, it's a long way to come for a booty call." 

He caught a flash of temper before Alex shook his head vehemently. "Not a booty call, Guerin. I'm saying I want you. Yeah, sex is part of the package but that's not what it's about, at all. Whatever way we decide works best for us, _as_ an us. Whether that's," he waved one hand, "live-in boyfriends, or," he waved the other hand, "if it's whole hog, forever, right now, and I put a ring on it." 

"A ring?" Michael echoed faintly. He wasn't sure he was keeping up correctly. 

"Yeah, Guerin, a ring," his voice was so soft, until he cleared his throat a couple of times. "Um, that'd be a metaphorical ring for the moment, I didn't..." he trailed off and huffed a laugh. "Yeah. Here's where we get past the part I rehearsed ---"

"You rehearsed?" he interrupted. 

"Well, yeah," Alex looked down, his smile bashful and a little uncertain. "Plenty of men rehearse proposing, it's not that weird, and I had travel time." He took a careful breath, eyes flickering to Michael and back down. "I was sure enough of what I needed to say - sure of what I want, now - to be able to come after you, but, um," he shrugged, one-shouldered. "Not so sure of what you might want. I mean, to get a ring, when... I didn't know. What you want." 

The halting manner of his speech, the sudden crack in the clear, calm communication that was not a hallmark of his Alex; these broke Michael's paralysis and he could speak again. "You." 

"Yeah?" He could see hope dawning on Alex's face, that thing he'd tried so hard to believe was evil and unnecessary, shining there for him in perfect beauty. 

Michael laughed, giddiness in the sound. "Yes, you stubborn asshole, I want you. _Yes_."

"Like, really yes?" he didn't sound like he believed it, either, and Michael shot out of the chair. 

"Can I kiss you now?" 

"Please," Alex whispered, and he did, covering parting lips with his own and licking inside, leaning down over the armchair. 

It wasn't enough and Michael wedged his knees in between Alex's, pushing against the edge of the chair seat as he bodily hauled Alex up and staggered backwards to collapse onto the bed, Alex sprawled on top of him and laughing. It was the best sound. 

"You didn't need to break something to get me into bed," Alex teased, and he answered with a kiss, rolling them over so he could pin Alex in place, his blood rushing hot at the way Alex went pliant - pliant _for_ Michael; offering himself in trust and comfort even after so long. It took his breath away. 

"As awesome as your ass looks in these, they need to come off," he all but growled, making quick work of the zip and button as Alex laughed. The sound changed dramatically when Michael yanked jeans and underwear down to mid-thigh and couldn't wait any longer, ducking his head to take Alex's half-hard cock in his mouth, moaning at how fast it became fully hard, pressing against his tongue. 

"Fuck, Guerin," voice high and tight, startled and hungry both. "Warn a guy, would ya?" 

He didn't answer, too greedy for Alex's taste. Michael managed to get the clothes the rest of the way off, hearing the quiet thud of denim hitting carpet, but he didn't let up and he could feel Alex's thighs trembling. 

"Guerin, if you don't... Guerin. Fuck," all choked pleasure that sent a shiver through Michael. "I'm gonna last about two more minutes if you don't stop!" 

Michael pulled off to reply, "I want you to. I want you to come now, and then I wanna fuck you, when I know you can really feel it." A soft whine was the only response and he returned to the task at hand, sucking eagerly, feeling the moment when Alex relaxed into it and let him take. 

And take he did, straight ahead suction no fucking around, until long, elegant fingers gripped his hair, parallel to the hips that began to jerk and shudder in Michael's grip as Alex found release. 

He gulped down everything offered and gentled, lips and tongue merely holding, feeling Alex start to soften, his taste and scent overwhelming in the best way. 

"Are we sharing custody now? Do I need to file a form to take my penis away from the bed?" his tone was saturated with amusement and Michael did finally have to move so he could laugh. 

"A form won't be necessary, you former government employee," he teased, sliding up the bed to seek Alex's mouth for a kiss. 

"Just checking. I mean, there's a form for fucking everything, so," his smile stayed intact through the kiss, arms wrapping around Michael. "You're overdressed." 

"Yeah," Michael agreed, but he didn't make any move to change that, opting to continue with kisses instead. 

Eventually Alex drew back, brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Do you not want to ---"

"Oh, I am going to fuck you," he cut Alex off with a chuckle. "Just, I realised something a minute ago." 

One eyebrow rose sharply. "You had an epiphany while sucking my cock?" 

Michael's grin was slow, wide, and filthy. "I sure did." He watched Alex through the laugh and the eye roll, smile softening as he continued, "Before, you know, I was always so desperate to get you naked and get going. Because I knew I had a time limit, right? I didn't always know when that was going to expire but the clock was always ticking down to departure." 

"I know." He rubbed circles on Michael's back, dark eyes on his, no hesitation, no barriers. "I'd apologise again, but..." 

"Yeah, no, no apologies. We've done all that," he agreed. "I just. It feels like I have time, now, and I wanna use it. I wanna fuck you for hours and go to sleep with you and wake up with you and do it again, because you'll still be here." 

"I'm not going anywhere," Alex promised. "Not now, not ever." 

Michael watched the truth in his gaze; traced it on his lips. And smirked, "Unless you give me a P form," delighted with himself when Alex laughed. 

"I knew it! I knew there had to be a form!" 

Smiling, Michael asked, "How long did you get the hotel for?" 

"The whole trip, from what Sanders told me," with an answering smile Michael could feel in his bones. "Ten days, nine nights. I could have cut it short if you hadn't wanted me here, so I just booked for the entire stretch." 

"And your ticket home? You can change it?" 

"Didn't get a round trip," he admitted. "I was hoping to catch a ride with a cowboy." 

"Seems only fair, seeing as I intend to ride you," he teased, grinning. "But maybe we could leave a couple days early. You know, swing through Vegas on the way home." 

"Yeah?" and that hope was back, radiating almost palpably. "I'd love that. I love you," shy as he spoke words Michael had waited so many years to hear. 

"I love you, Alex," the murmur meeting lips as he sought another kiss, content to lose himself in leisurely exploration. He had tonight. He had tomorrow. He had a week right in this hotel room; a few days of travelling; and a whole lifetime beyond that. 

Michael had time, now, here where one road ended and another began, and they would make their way forward, together. 

[Et fini]


End file.
